Lusus naturae
by NotYourDamsel
Summary: [SI/OC] Xenophilius Lovegood is... strange. But that's alright, because he has friends that accept him for who he is. Even though he's suppoused to be dead.


**Summary: **Xenophilius knew there was something… _off _about him. It wasn't the way he just knew things that nobody else does (or will and it wasn't the way he spoke in riddles or abstract words fitting for poems. Maybe it was the way he had another set of memories: memories of a dyslexic teen with ADHD, or maybe it was the way he was supposed to be a mere background character in a story well-known and loved. Either way, he wasn't surprised when he received his Hogwarts letter. Though, Lucius Malfoy did.

**Warnings: **OC-Insert as Xenophilius Lovegood, Canon Shenanigans, The Lovegood Language, Blood Purity Bullshit, Gryffindor Shenanigans, Amos Diggory, Arthur Weasley, Bellatrix Lestrange, the Marauders, Yaoi/Slash, Het, etc.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, if I did, there would be a series revolving around the Marauders.

* * *

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Little Xenophilius wasn't normal, this he knew all too well.

People didn't see the things he saw, didn't see the colored winds that carried little people flying on flowers and leaves, didn't see the grouchy dwarves with their mushroom hats trudging along the canals with grunts and grumbles, didn't see the trees with their wise eyes and waving branches as others walked by.

They didn't hear the giggling and whispers of the skies, didn't hear the chattering of the little shadows in the corners of ceilings and floors, didn't hear the songs the pretty birds sang whenever they feel like singing, didn't hear the cheery laughter of the puffs of white as they floated away along with the breeze.

They didn't feel the warmth of his Mama's smile, didn't feel the chill that penetrated his bones whenever the mean old man with flying, little beings around his head saw him or his Mama, didn't feel the white-hot, searing pain that made his eyes water because the other kids were yelling at another kid and it made his chest hurt and head ring—

Xenophilius Lovegood wasn't normal, but that's okay. Because Mama loves him still, and that's all he needs.

* * *

.

"Phil? Are you here?"

Xenophilius didn't answer, choosing instead to watch the row of ants that crawled from the bathroom wall into a hole that was behind the toilet.

He wondered if they were storing up food for the winter, like he saw the squirrels do with the holes in their trees. If they were, they must be really hardworking, because they're so many and need lots and lots of food to feed them all!

(He tried helping Mama cook once. Mama didn't let him near the kitchen after that ever again.)

Mama doesn't mind if he doesn't answer back to her, but if he's _too _quiet, Mama will panic and search for him really, really hard.

Xenophilius asked why she was so scared once, and Mama smiled sadly and her warmth cooled jut a little bit.

"Because your Papa just disappeared one day when I wasn't looking, and Mama's scared that maybe you will, too."

Xenophilius knew about his Papa. His Papa whom he looks just like in face and hair, his Papa who wanders about the forest behind their woods just like he does to play with the bunnies with wings like angels and the fawns with rainbow speckled skin, his Papa who talks about things 'not real' and wears feathers and radishes and corks instead of jewelry and hats, his Papa who sings odes that seemed nonsensical and crazy while playing his kalimba without a care, his Papa who makes charms and dreamcatchers and pendants instead of working but still manages to get enough money to feed them.

His Papa who was probably a wizard.

(But where did he go?)

Xenophilius doesn't remember him much, just fleeting expressions of _yellow _and _music _and _magic _and _safesafesafe_. And the kalimba he left.

It was a sunset color, with gradients of white, yellow and orange, and black impressions of butterflies and flowers decorating the wooden instrument.

Xenophilius liked playing it. It made the weird creatures flying around people's heads go away, and the colors around him so much more brighter.

One time, it even made him float!

(But then he got stuck on the ceiling, and he had to ask help from the tiny faeries that were watching him with curiosity.

Their voices were squeaky and high, but he could understand them perfectly.

"You can see us?" the one with the bluebell dress chimed, tilting her flowerhead. When he nodded, they started chittering about, flying this way and that, before finally helping him down.

"Silly little child," the one with the rose dress scolded him lightly. "If you don't know how to use your magic, then don't use it."

"How _do _you use it?" Xenophilius asked as he was brought down by dozens of faeries holding his clothes and limbs. A few were playing with his hair, and tutted on about the dirt and dust that caked his face.

A faery with a buttercup dress laughed, the sound akin to bells, and answered as if it was an easy question everyone knew the answer to,

"You just have to will it, small one! It's _yours_, after all")

He started using his magic more then, just little bursts of _periwinkle _and _indigo_ and _pastel yellow_ that danced on his fingertips, but were otherwise invisible to his Mama when he tried showing it to her once, and played with it whenever the books his Mama gave him were too boring to be read again.

(The wonder that is reading had _fascinated _him the first time he didn't see the letters dancing like they did Before. It was _mindblowing_)

He could make things float, make _himself _float (though he still can't make himself go down. Rosie, the one with the rose dress, said that it was because he _didn't _want to go down, and couldn't help but agree), move things with a single thought, make the flowers on his Mama's garden better (the faeries were _really _happy about that. Mama, too), and he could make images dance around if he wanted to.

(He showed it to his Mama on her birthday, and was worried that it made her cry instead of smile.

"I'm sorry, my little star," she said, wiping away here tears as she hugged him close. "It just reminded me so much of your Papa. He made beautiful images glow and dance around like that as well.")

Xenophilius liked his magic, and the faeries liked his magic, too.

"It's warm and friendly and colorful," Bluebell commented once, as he traced the figure of a dragon in thin air. "Not like the other Magicals' magic, oh no. Our little Philius's is very, very unique and special. Just like himself."

He could live like this everyday: staying with Mama as she made clothes for people (and him) to wear, playing with his friends that weren't human, training with the faeries as he made their flowers healthier than ever, and listening to the wind for the news it brings from all over the world.

Of course, it all had to end when a witch visited him and brought him his Hogwarts letter.

* * *

.

Professor McGonagall was younger than expected, but that was normal, since he was Xenophilius and was thus in a time where the Gryffindor was not as wizened as she was to be.

She seemed perplexed about the army of faeries that fluttered about him, and was wide-eyed when he used magic to prepare tea since Mama was sleeping and he didn't want to wake her up.

"… you can use magic." It wasn't a question, but Xenophilius still nodded.

"How?" she asked next, and he hummed as he swirled his tea.

"My friends helped me," he replied honestly, giving Camellia a sugarcube when he saw her eyeing it, and smiled as she twinkled in thanks. "And besides, it's not that hard once you get used to it."

Professor McGonagall raised a greying eyebrow at that, but didn't comment and instead sipped her tea. "You do know that you will be henceforth monitored once you enter schooling, yes? Which means no use of magic outside of Hogwarts, Mr. Lovegood."

At that, Xenophilius slumped, and the faeries quivered angrily as they shouted expletives to the bemused witch. He was alright with it. Them shouting is really the equivalent of wind chimes angrily ringing. It was mildly pleasant, in truth.

Mama woke up when Xenophilius was making lunch, and took the appearance of a stranger in their hime with stride that made her able to marry her Papa. They talked about his heritage, his enrollment, and the breaks that would allow him to go home if he so wanted to.

"Oh, he won't," Mama said once Professor McGonagall mentioned that they could stay in Hogwarts if they didn't want to return. "A castle filled with magic? He'll be off the roofs at the implications, and I don't blame him one bit. Though, please do watch over him carefully, because he sometimes _do _fly off the roofs literally when excited."

"Your child can fly?" Professor McGonagall inquired, and stared, gobsmacked, as Xenophilius easily floated out of the window without breaking a sweat.

When Professor McGonagall left, it was with the looming promise of shopping (in a magical street! How _exciting_!) and treats handed in a basket.

Xenophilius might not like the limitations of his magic usage, but the thought of attending _the _Hogwarts overshadowed it for now.

* * *

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Diagon Alley was _wonderful_, overflowing with colors and sounds and so much _more_.

Professor McGonagall had to actually apply a Tracking Charm on him, since he always manages to slip through her grasp. But once they arrived at Flourish and Blotts', she couldn't peel him off the bookshelves until she promised that they return once they were done.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were Sorted in Ravenclaw," she huffed without any real heat. "A mind like yours needs faster ones to keep up with your thoughts."

Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions was fun, since he could tell that there were secret pockets in the robes and chatted about the Charms that could help one manage their wardrobe, and even got an invite to visit over his break if he wanted to learn more!

They went to buy a pet for him next, but Xenophilius declined with a, "I don't need owls to deliver me messages." And left it at that.

Finally, they were due to Ollivander's, and Xenophilius could practically _taste _the magic built up from years and millions of items that stored magic.

He was getting his own _wand_!

Xenophilius stumbled when they entered, mind going overdrive with the sudden influx of magic that greeted him when he opened the door, and was spinning around in wonder as he watched the multitudes of colors that practically _drowned _the store.

"Welcome, curious one," a voice greeted, and Xenophilius turned around with a smile.

"Hello, Mr. Wandmaker," he replied just as airily, eyes going larger at the colors that weaved around the wandmaker's body, smile stretching even more once he caught sight of a little neon salamander resting on his head. How adorable.

"A first year, eh? Ah, young Lucas's son. Yes, I remember your father," he winked upon Xenophilius's questioning look. "Wonderful man, he was. Didn't need my wands at all to call forth his gift when he grew older, but still treasured his wand—thirteen inches, unicorn tail hair, swishy and springy, made out of Acacia wood."

"Is that so?" he started, and looked around. "May I look for a wand, please?"

Ollivander chuckled, and proceeded to hand him box after box.

It was a long, but exhilarating process. One made him burn down a wall, another made him turn a vase into a monster, and his favorite made rainbows cover the ceiling as it rained candy.

Though, it had to end when he was handed a handsome wand made of cherry, with a thunderbird tail feather for a core, was eleven inches tall, and very, very swishy.

All in all, Xenophilius had a marvelous time shopping in Diagon Alley, and was quite happy to buy more books once done with his Potions supplies.

* * *

.

Standing in the platform of King's Cross Station, Xenophilius smiled at his Mama and hugged her tight.

"You'll be okay," he said, brushing away a stray tear and pecked her cheek. "Rosie and the others will take care of you, and I will send messages every now and then."

Mama laughed. "I should be the one to assure you everything will be fine," she murmured, and hugged him twice as fiercely back. "Make friends and ignore the ones who tell you to act 'normal', alright? You're you, and that's all you need."

Xenophilius grinned, nodded, and skipped towards the wall between Platforms 3 and 4.

* * *

.

The Hogwarts Express was _enormous_, and steaming with colors that blinded him with its vibrancy that he actually had to squint his eyes to avoid being permanently blindsided.

Hefting his trunk onto the train, he entered a compartment and, with a little burst of magic, easily placed it on the top space above him. Sitting primly on his seat, he watched as wizards and witches of all different kinds waved goodbye to their family members, some shouting last-minute reminders and full on sobbing. Perhaps it was their child's first year?

The sound of a door sliding open made Xenophilius look away from his observing, and found a brunette with round spectacles and a friendly smile on his face waving at him.

"Hullo, mind if I sit here with you?" At his nod, his smile brightened. "Many thanks!"

Xenophilius watched the boy with _gold _and _white _and _yellow _coming out of him in waves lift his trunk overhead with slight difficulty, and wordlessly gave it a little nudge to help. He seemed to be a nice one, if the colors had anything to say about it, though he wondered if it would change as he grew.

Sitting on the other side, the newcomer grinned, and held out a hand for him to shake. "The name's Amos Diggory! Pleasure to meet you, new friend!"

Xenophilius tilted his head, vaguely recalling a man with a son who died, and soon gave him a small smile. Just a quirk of his small, pale lips. "Likewise, I am Xenophilius Lovegood."

This ought to be interesting. Maybe he would get to see a young James Potter soon?

* * *

.

"How do you think the Sorting would go?" asked Amos as they shuffled in line.

He was quite happy with his newfound friend, even though Xenophilius always looked _out of it_ and said weird things, he was still nice and could magic despite being just a half-blood!

Xenophilius made a sound between a hum and a song, swaying mindlessly as if listening to some invisible music, and answered, "They would probably ask you questions, or look into your mind to find out who you are."

"Look into my _mind_?" Amos gaped. There was magic like that? Why hadn't his father told him?

Xenophilius gave him a smile, one that seemed to say 'I know something you don't', before facing forward once again to watch the doors to the Great Hall open.

* * *

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"_Oh, my. A reincarnated soul? Haven't seen your kind around since… well, since little Alydia Wellington came from the Medieval Ages!"_

"Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Sorting Hat. Or is it Ms.?"

"_Ohhhh, a polite one! Now this is even rarer. You can call me whatever you want, so long as it's not rude. Let's have a look-see in your head then…"_

Xenophilius felt the Sorting Hat rummage through his mind, and he tried hard not to squirm or poke into the Sorting Hat's consciousness.

"_Hm… plenty of courage here… a generous amount of cunning, too. Oh! Aren't you a kind one? That was nice of you to help the spring faeries with their flowers. But… ah, yes. A mind filled with endless possibilities and questions! You'll do well in—_**RAVENCLAW**!"

With a hop from the stool, Xenophilius sketched a small bow towards the artifact and headed towards the table of blue and bronze.

* * *

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"_I have no feet, yet I can move. I have no eyes, yet I can cry. What am I?"_

"A raincloud," the Ravenclaw Prefect, one Tony Summers, crisply replied.

"_Nicely done_," the eagle quipped, before swinging open to admit the Ravenclaws into the Common Room.

Xenophilius was in awe of the room splattered with so _many _shades and tints, and barely managed to listen to their Head Boy and Girl before he was sent off to bed.

Opening the window nearest to his bed, he leaned his head out and listened to the winds, whispering his own news and finishing with a goodnight to everyone.

"What are you doing?" a roommate of his inquired, and Xenophilius smiled.

"Nothing." And that was that.

* * *

**A/N: You guys don't know how much I **_**love **_**the Lovegoods. Like, really.**

**In this fic, my Xenophilius will be the same age as Amos, Arthur and Lucius, which makes them four years older than the Marauders (since Lucius was a Prefect when they were Sorted, as mentioned when he greeted a newly Sorted Snape with a Prefect Badge on his chest), and **_**yes**_**, this is BoyxBoy, so if you don't like, get out.**

**Reviews, constructive criticism, and anything else is welcome (even bad ones)!**


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